


To Burn As One

by speckledhound



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Corruption, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, some dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledhound/pseuds/speckledhound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melkor has come to trust Sauron and his guidance, but Sauron is distracted by his own desires and is willing to corrupt himself even more in order to satisfy himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Burn As One

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing can never have enough fic and so I thought I would give it a go, seeing as they have completely won me over. Do enjoy.

Sauron looked to the eyes of his Master, his gaze on the shadows that lingered there; he called to his attention. After a long while Melkor seemed to flicker back into view, as if he had not been there before Sauron just moments before. Was it that Melkor thought his young lieutenant was but succumbing to this Master’s devious charm, or did he know that underneath that intricate headpiece of war was a stunning thing of beauty, one who would follow him until the end?

They stood at the doorway of a newly erected tent that had been placed there by Melkor’s most trusted and his finest. Sauron watched as others came and went, reporting to Melkor, a number of snarls and hunched, fearful gestures in passing. None would adore him as he did, so why did they try? He felt a burning, a jealousy, a growing lust. He wanted to be lusted after as was the world in Melkor’s eyes; everything around them, it could be his. Theirs. One day, he knew, however, his Master would be gone, will have disappeared from these lands, and no matter the legacy he has left behind, the world would be his to do with as he wished.

“My lord,” Sauron requested of his presence; this was the day Melkor created the Balrogs. It was empowering to see such a creation rise from what seemed to be the depths of Middle-earth itself. Unstoppable, gorgeous things that held the attention of the Orcs and of Melkor himself in a way that Sauron had never witnessed.

“Of what do you require me, Faithful One?”

Sauron looked to him, and how he seemed to tower over everything in his wake.

“I require your words, O Lord. What shall you have me do, now that the Balrogs have taken full form? They will be able to thrive and to serve us. What plans have you of the future?”

Melkor paused and seemed to gaze at the ground, moving his eyes in an obvious manner from the glint off of Sauron’s steel boots to the wispy ends of his fiery hair.

“You have succeeded in aiding me, guiding me in all of my plans thus far; do you not have any of your own?”

The very beat of Sauron’s heart was maddening as he retained his professional composure. “Of course, my lord, I was simply wanting to know if we were to leave this place, perhaps onto another, or… whether or not you intend to remain here.”

“Remain..?” Melkor tilted his head, ignoring the obvious Orcs not but twenty feet away in obvious need of guidance.

What was Sauron to say in such a delicate moment, as he’d work so hard to make it this far, done all he had needed to do in order to move up to such a rank of power and become so trusted. Which was more important: his skill and ability and all he had achieved, and all that he could, or his own wants, his own selfish desires?

“My lord…” Sauron concentrated on the darkness and the din, on how much Melkor’s vision meant to all of them…to the sniveling Orcs, the Dragons full of terror and greed, and now the Balrogs, with their unstoppable might. Coming from what seemed like a distant world, he heard a soft chuckle transform into a bought of hearty laughter, and out of the corner of his eye, witnessed the small Orc crowds begin to retreat and move towards a Balrog. “What is it?” Sauron retreated back, snagging one of the sharp angles adorning his boots on the grass and falling to his backside.

“You pathetic thing, you loyal _dog_.” Melkor’s hungry smile became increasingly wider as he seemed to sweep down and bring Sauron to his feet. He held him there, his powerful hands touching his face, and he realized just how small but just how… intoxicating his lieutenant truly was.

“You are foolish,” Melkor said. “Ever so foolish.”

Fire seemed to rise within Sauron and he pushed Melkor from the grip he held on him, and reasserted his stance as he watched Melkor stagger back.

“You have known?”

Melkor laughed once more.

“I have known? My dear, cruel little pet, all have known. No one has given in more than you; and why do you think that is?”

He was not but a few inches away from Sauron’s face now, staring down into his burning eyes.

“Did you think I would promote someone I did not think fitting of my desires? My needs? A fool, you are naught but a fool Sauron, I have been empowered by creating all of this in the image of my vision, yes, that is true; but you are blind to think I did not know of your lust for power and your lust for me.”

He snarled out the last word, his tongue curling around his teeth. Sauron lunged, biting his teeth into the flesh of Melkor’s neck, feeling it arch beneath his grasp as he fiercely proved his hunger. Melkor did not flinch, and growled as Sauron gnawed and lapped at his neck, taking in the taste which he had hungered for so long, so agonizingly long. Melkor gave the most pitiful moan; in any situation besides this, it would have made Sauron laugh; such a large, powerful creature brought to his most vulnerable point.

It only drove him further.

They had made it to the inside of the tent now, Sauron’s tasting of the sweat and salt of Melkor’s neck having ceased, but their pound upon pound of armor having been kicked off or shredded on the way in as well. Melkor never imagined himself being brought down by this, as he gazed upon the beauty he had wanted for ever so long.

“My pet …” Melkor hissed, letting the smooth hair of fire slip through his fingers; He, the lord that had brought darkness to these lands, who had destroyed and created, would give himself up, only for Sauron’s hunger for his heat and for his touch.

They seemed to emerge from their corporeal forms, rising and turning, their bodies turned to dust and ash. Sauron led Melkor to his knees and felt his blood pumping, aching. The Fallen Angel wanted his Lord, wanted to know him, wanted him within his grasp.

Sauron clutched Melkor’s head by his pitch-dark locks, pushing his head where he so desired with the other, a sneer overwhelming his face as he felt the warmth of Melkor’s tongue teasing him, from the inside of his thighs to the tip of his cock.

Sauron’s breathing quickened as Melkor took him inside his mouth and began to pleasure him. He threw his head back, not thinking and not caring of the possible pain his grip on his lover’s hair was causing. His moans came quicker now, even more so as Melkor now grasped the back of him.

“You are my pet now, stay on your knees you are nothing you are mine,” Sauron said somewhere, a distant place.

He wanted it so badly, more than anything, he wanted the sensation to reach its highest point and to have Melkor taste him; make him regret all he had missed out on all this time by not acting. He was going much faster now, making Sauron’s body buck his hips and thrust all that he had into Melkor’s throat. Sweat covered his body and he ran his hands along his torso, feeling complete. He shivered and shook.

Melkor looked up at Sauron’s eyes full of flame and arousal and snarled, “Come, Fallen Lover,” and he resumed his work.

Sauron was panting heavily now, practically drooling as his lust for Melkor climaxed and his body shook, coming down his Master’s throat and pushing him hard against him to keep him in place, making him clean him off as his pants came in long, heavy gasps. At long last Melkor rose, Sauron dripping from his mouth, and Sauron pulled him close until they touched. He leaned in and licked himself off of Melkor’s lips, then transitioned them both into hard kisses.

They were like this for an eternity, naked and vulnerable, at each other’s disposal. They fell back onto the soft ground, Sauron draping himself over Melkor’s rough body. And so they lay there, their lips against one another, soft moans disrupting the quiet.

The lieutentant, so old but still so young, ran his finger along Melkor's many scars, feeling the rough hands that he had burned from his encounter with the Silmarils. It saddened him to see these flaws now, but still he accepted him. No one would inflict further harm; Sauron was to kneel for no one but him now, no creature would sway his thoughts.

“How was that?” Asked Melkor, stroking at Sauron’s lithe, yet powerful form.

“Empowering,” came Sauron’s reply, nestling himself into a comfortable spot. It was the dawn of a new age; for a dark power walked together, loved together, and burned together when it wanted, now.


End file.
